5x Sherlock Slept in John's Bed
by WTInsomniac
Summary: Whether it's to help John's nightmares, or because he just thinks better in John's room, the only sleep Sherlock seems to be getting is in John's bed. John appears to be unaware of their arrangement. At least for now.
1. Chapter 1 Sherlock

The first time it happened, John was having a nightmare. Sherlock had heard the creak of the bedsprings underneath John's old mattress as he tossed and turned upstairs. Bored (not concerned), he quietly ascended the stairs to John's room.

The door slipped open quietly (Sherlock had once oiled all the hinges on the doors in the flat with fluids of different viscosity). In his sleep, John's face looked older and more lined than Sherlock remembered. No carefree smile, or soft laugh. Not even the hard eyes and set jaw which meant John was being stubborn about something. Sherlock was struck with a thought that he had never seen someone look at once both too young and too old, clutching childishly at the blanket, with fear wrinkled all over his face.

Sherlock walked forward softly (he'd practiced this, and with correct footwear on carpet, his footsteps were 87% softer than your average Londoner's). He perched on the edge of the bed, and gently, so as not to wake John (not because of any, dare we say it, tenderness), smoothed a hand through his hair. John's expression softened, although he was still reflexively clutching the blanket to his chest.

The change in expression should have been enough for Sherlock. John's nightmare had gone away. Why then, was John holding the blanket so tightly? Sherlock took in the sight of John's hands. Tanned, with a line where his shirt sleeve would end, muscles skilled at performing surgeries, fingernails short, but neat, kept that way through clipping, not biting.

Sherlock placed his hands on John's, and gently pried the blanket away. Lifting the corner of the blanket, he slid into Jon's bed. Once comfortable, he took John's hands in his, and studying the way John's smaller, broader hands and his intertwined, fell asleep for the first time in three days.

Thoughts? First fanfic ever! This is heading toward a 5+1 format, maybe with the +1 being John's perspective? I dunno. I might do all of them in both perspectives? I have some ideas, but I need help! New author is new! Feedback is lovely. I would also love a beta maybe. This may have an M rating +1, although as a first time writer, I think I may stick with the fluff and leave harder stuff to the pros.


	2. Chapter 1 John

Blood. There was blood all over his hands. He pressed harder at the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. He couldn't move, couldn't do anything other than watch the man he was supposed to save bleed out in front of him. He couldn't stop it. Couldn't save him. Couldn't...

The dream faded. John felt someone's hand in his hair. He let the touch relax him as he tried to forget the nightmare. In some part of his brain, he was still holding the bloodsoaked gauze to a man's leg, trying to stop the bleeding. John never lessened his grip on the blanket.

John only half noticed when the cloth he was clutching turned into hands. Cold, spidery fingers gently moving the blanket away. He didn't notice the bed dip as Sherlock slid under the covers, he just missed the absence of those hands on his. Then, they were back, snugly fit between his fingers, cool palms to sweaty palms.

Wait, hands? Long, thin fingers? John blinked his eyes open sleepily and came face to face with a sleeping Sherlock. He wondered what to do. Should he wake him up and tell him to get out of his bed? Sharing a bed was not normal flatmate behavior. Sherlock, however, was not a normal flatmate. He also considered the fact that he hadn't seen Sherlock sleep once during the time he knew him, and if John woke him now, who knows when he would sleep next. On a more practical note, it was always colder in John's room for some reason, and Sherlock made his bed nice and warm. As long as he didn't steal the blankets, he could stay.

Reviews? I'm considering this part B of chapter 1. Should I continue in both points of view? Just Sherlock? Just John? Opinions really help me, I'm a first time fic writer, and I've got no idea what to do here. 


	3. Chapter 2 Sherlock

It's been a whole week. 7 days and no cases. Sherlock is bored. All John seems to do is leave in the morning, go to work, come home and then there's hardly any time before John goes to sleep. _Boring_. When John's gone, Mrs. Hudson makes an attempt to clean up, and complains about the mess Sherlock's made. _Boring_. If only there were something to _do_ with his brain. He can feel it festering away, thinking about things, obviously, but nothing interesting, nothing new, nothing exiting, nothing worth thinking about!

If only John wouldn't go to work all the time. He's been working overtime, lately. Making up for the times he's run off during a case, obviously. Not that Sherlock wonders where John is all the time. It's not like he's jealous. Not like John could be spending time with someone else. Sherlock would know. He decides he's spending far too much thinking time on John. This would never happen if anything _interesting_ were going on.

But then again, John is interesting. So it can't be John. When he is home, sure he's sleepy and grumpy, but then again, so is Sherlock. And they have gone out to eat, ordered take away, John's cooked, Sherlock's cooked (don't ask), and Sherlock's even eaten a few bites of things (blindfolded, in order to test his sense of smell and hearing. He got them all right, it was not even worth the effort John made to get the snails).

Maybe he needs to spend more time with John. But how? John won't let him follow him to work, he's tried that already. Disguises? No, doctors actually have to look at patients fairly carefully, and John is more perceptive than most. Sleep! He could make a study of John's sleeping patterns. Possibly this could lead to John having fewer nightmares. Fewer nightmares means John would need less sleep, which means more time with Sherlock.

Despite the nightmares, John is hard to wake up. Obviously. He didn't even notice the last time Sherlock slept in his bed. Sherlock got up after a solid four hours, the average length of one human REM cycle, the minimum amount of sleep to wake up completely refreshed. John sleeps a ridiculous eight or nine hours a night. There must be a way of reducing this.

After John had gone to bed, Sherlock went up to his room, turned on the light (for better observing) and perched on the edge of the bed, watching John sleep. After about 10 minutes he realized that it was, disappointingly, _boring_. John wasn't even moving, or twitching his face muscles, or mumbling or anything. He gave a sigh and flopped down dejectedly on John's bed. He wrapped himself in John's blanket and started to sulk.

It was at this point that John, being cold, moved instinctively towards the nearest source of heat, and wrapped himself around it. Annoyed and trapped, Sherlock slipped off into fitful sleep.

**Author here!**

Just wanted to extend a huge hug and thank yous to everyone who's read the story, and those of you who favorited and put it on story alert. I was shocked! You are the best, and I hope I do not disappoint in future chapters.


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